Chapter 1: Street Gist and Old Wounds

I stumble on a street interview by one popular blogger.

My phone dey vibrate for pocket, everywhere dey hot, I just scroll reach one video wey dey trend like gala for traffic. The afternoon sun was bright, the Lagos street noisy as ever—traffic horns, hawkers shouting, keke drivers arguing.

"What would you like to say to yourself from five years ago?"

The camera no too shake, but I see the familiar face immediately—Tunde Adekunle, all dressed like somebody wey life dey pamper now, arm around his young girlfriend. Her name, Morayo, be everywhere these days—social media dey worship their pictures, some even dey copy their matching Ankara. The way she hold him waist, her head rest small for his shoulder, you go think say na only two of them waka come this world.

His voice was calm, with small traces of tenderness. Under that calm, I still sabi the stubborn Tunde I marry—voice steady, but he fit make person do anything. E shock me to see am dey gentle like this for camera.

"I wish the Tunde Adekunle from five years ago could have met Morayo sooner."

As he talk am, he squeeze her small, like person wey dey sure of him win. For that moment, Morayo look like prize wey him don hustle claim.

The girl in his arms blushed, covered her mouth and echoed softly,

"Me too."

She no fit hide am—her eyes dance, her cheeks red small, as if she dey act for Nollywood love scene. All those small small giggles, na so she dey make people believe say true love still dey this Naija.

People online started to gush about how sweet they were and sent them plenty of good wishes. Comments just dey fly like harmattan dust: "God when!", "See as dem dey pepper us!", "Na this kind love I dey pray for." Some people even dey tap into their blessing. E be like everybody dey look for who go hold dem the way Tunde dey hold Morayo.

Nobody knew that five years ago was the very day Tunde Adekunle and I got married. Not even him. He didn’t remember.

Until one week later.

That same blogger posted another street interview. In the video, I looked straight into the camera, talking seriously,

My eyes no shake. You know as e dey when pain don wash you finish? I dey calm, but my chest still dey tight.

"If possible, Kemi, no marry Tunde Adekunle. You go regret am."

The words come out sharp, my face no smile. My Yoruba accent strong for the video. Na real warning.

This time, Tunde Adekunle saw it.

E no take two hours before e reach him WhatsApp group. All those, "Guy, see wetin your ex talk o!" messages. Na so life be for Lagos—gist no dey sleep.

As I drop phone, na so silence fill my parlour—just me, fan, and heavy heart. But this time, I no cry.